Ashes in the Wind
by Random Ravenclaw91
Summary: Rodolphus Lestrange was not meant to become a Death Eater. His brother and the Dark Lord demand his decision and he knows what his answer will be. But there is one person who can show him that some things are more important than death.
1. A Moment in Time

**Author's Notes:**

_Thanks to voldymort for being a great beta! This fic will have three chapters. PLEASE review!_

Chapter 1: **A Moment in Time**

I didn't know where I was, and that frightened me more than I would ever have admitted.

_How did I get here?_ I wondered, my vision finally clearing. I still felt lightheaded, but I looked around, and I was in the midst of a field. It was grassy and beautiful, but strange nonetheless. The grass seemed unnaturally green and seemed to have an otherworldly beauty.

_Where's my wand?_ I looked around again, and this time spotted my wand and a satchel on top of a bush a metre or two away. I stumbled to my feet, still feeling a bit dizzy. I grasped my wand and sunk back to the ground, not bothering to pick up the bag as well. Breathing deeply, I Summoned it silently.

It felt heavy, and I lifted the flap and started taking items out.

First there was a book. The cover was blood-red, but there was no writing anywhere on it. I looked to make sure it had writing inside it, then set it down to look at the rest of the contents. There was also a folded map, and as I looked at it, I realised it was completely ordinary

By this time I was starting to feel ridiculous. A book with no title and an ordinary map. How was that supposed to help? I felt ridiculous.

I rolled my eyes at myself but pulled out the last object.

It looked like a Time-Turner. It was a small silver hourglass hanging from a long chain. I wanted to flip the hourglass just to see if it really was, but I decided not to.

_Well, why not?_ I thought just a moment later. _I might as well try it out. Just going back one hour really wouldn't make a difference, after all… Then I might figure out how I got into this damn field._

I put the chain around my neck and turned the hourglass just once. I waited impatiently, but nothing happened.

_So it's not a Time-Turner… That's strange. I guess it could just be a normal hourglass._

Shrugging and unwilling to devote much more time to the mystery, I put aside the empty bag and picked the book back up. Flipping past the cover, I looked at the first page and found the title I hadn't bothered to look for.

It was some sort of history of the Death Eaters, apparently. There were chapters about the Dark Lord, and all about the best spells to use for what. I didn't know why they even bothered to put anything besides the Unforgivables in there.

I continued leafing through the book in disgust, and when I got about half-way through, I found a scrap of parchment. I opened it and began to read.

_Rodolphus,_

_I know you said you don't want to be a Death Eater, but you're wrong. You know that it doesn't matter whether you want to or not. You __must_

_You have very little time to become a Death Eater and prove your loyalty. If you don't quickly enough, you will be killed._

_If you had just agreed in the first place, this wouldn't be happening._

_Rabastan_

I crushed the note in my hand as I felt my anger rise to the boiling point. Why was it that just because I was part of the bloody Lestrange family that I had to become a Death Eater? I didn't want to, and I never had! I hated Mudbloods – no denying that – but I wasn't about to devote my life to killing them.

Now I remembered what happened before I woke up in this field. Rabastan and I had fought, and I had left the house, telling him I wouldn't be coming back. He'd shouted after me that I didn't have a choice.

He was right.

Now, it was either that, or death.

Sighing, I slung the satchel over my shoulder, forcing my mind to turn away from that topic and just leave this field that now seemed too bright, too airy, too beautiful.

I walked through a small group of trees, admiring the stately dignity they had. But then something in the sky up ahead caught my eye.

I rushed forward, needing to see it clearly. Because, from here, it look so familiar; I had a horrible feeling I knew what it was.

Out in the open, it burned into my eyes. It was bright, bright green, and I knew exactly what the symbol was. I had seen it glowing on my brother's arm for years. It was the Dark Mark.

It was directly over a small house, a whitewashed cottage with flowers blooming in the front and giving every appearance of happiness. Unable to stop myself, I began to walk forward to see what horrors the inside held.

At first, nothing seemed strange. The door entered right into a little kitchen. I kept walking through the house, feeling panicked at what I might see.

In the living room were the bodies. There was a beautiful woman. She had long, black hair, black eyes, and pale skin. Her eyes were open even in death, and there was a look of terror on her face. The same expression, it seemed, as the three other people in the room. In her arms was a small girl, with the same colour hair. She was so young – just a toddler.

To her right was a tall man, presumably her husband. I barely looked at him, unable to stay much longer in a room holding so much death. And last was a little boy, older than his sister. His hair was dark red, matching his father's.

My eyes found the woman's again, and I felt a strong – but illogical – surge of hatred for whoever had done it. There had been no need…

I turned away suddenly, too cowardly to stare anymore. They had obviously been hit by the Killing Curse. I wandered over to the mantel and the still-lit fire.

I sighed, unwilling to stop myself from examining the photos. There were two of them, and both contained the whole family. One seemed to be a candid shot. They were all laughing, and I could tell that it hadn't been staged.

They were Muggles. The motionless photos proved it, but it was obvious even before that. Why else would the Dark Lord kill them?

I remembered that I was supposed to hate Muggles too. But as I looked at the photo, I couldn't help but wish I had a family like that. That I was happy, carefree, laughing. That my brother hadn't sent me off on a suicide mission, consisting of unknown horrors.

I was again struck with the knowledge that I wasn't meant to be a Death Eater. If I had been, I could have forgiven this. I would have been able to laugh, maybe set fire to the house. But, strangely, I couldn't.

I had this terribly cold feeling despite the nearness of the fire, and I felt like I would be sick. I sunk to the ground, and covered my face with my hands, unable to continue looking.

Closing my eyes wasn't enough, not when I knew what was behind me. So I lurched suddenly to my feet and ran out of the house, unwilling to stay in a place that held so much death any longer. I spared one last glance behind me, but again felt the sickening horror at the thought of the Dark Lord killing those Muggles.

But as I was walking quickly away from the field and the house, I tried to bring myself to stop feeling so panicked.

I heard a small whistling noise coming from within my bag. I opened it swiftly, curious as to what the noise was.

It was the hourglass. The sand seemed to be glowing and it spun a few times, so rapidly it became a blur.

The next moment I was in the same place, but the early morning light was coming from overhead, so I knew it was a different time.

My heart was pounding. I had travelled back in time, and I knew that somehow this was Rabastan's doing.

The Time-Turner, which it decidedly was, (Rabastan most definitely tricked me into thinking it was just an hourglass) hadn't worked for me. Perhaps only a few could use it.

I looked around and saw the same house, this time illuminated by sunlight. I saw other houses as well and knew it must be some sort of village.

I looked up involuntarily. No Dark Mark. I couldn't help but sigh in relief.

My eyes gravitated to the area behind the whitewashed house, because I thought I saw someone moving. I was about to walk forward when I remembered that I was still wearing robes, and that I wouldn't fit into a Muggle setting whatsoever.

I stepped back into the surrounding forest and looked into my satchel again. I couldn't bring myself to be surprised as I pulled out some ordinary Muggle clothes. There were black pants and a plain, brown, button-down shirt. I changed quickly, unreasonably wanting to go back to the tiny village.

I ran back through the trees eagerly. As I stepped out, I saw the same Muggle woman I had seen dead only moments ago. She was hanging clothes on a rope suspended between trees to dry. I was compelled to move forward and speak to her, this woman whose fate was sealed.

She looked up when I approached her and smiled, obviously friendly.

"I haven't seen you around," she said softly, her movements fluid as she quickly continued her domestic activity.

"No," I answered, my voice cracking with anxiety. "I'm just passing through."

"Oh, that's nice. Can I ask your name?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange," I answered, not bothering to lie.

"I'm Isabelle Schwarz," she smiled, putting out her hand for me to shake.

I felt my expression soften as I took her hand in my own in such a friendly yet unfamiliar gesture.

"So where are you going?" she asked easily.

"Taking a train to London," I lied.

"Oh, are you going on the station in town?" She apparently assumed I knew where I was.

"Yes, of course."

"The morning train?" Then her eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry I'm bothering you with so many questions. My husband says I talk too much." Her smile was still friendly, though.

I laughed softly, the noise sounding strange to my ears. "No, actually, I'm not leaving until five tonight."

She looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but she only asked one more, "Really? May I ask what you're doing until then?"

I blinked and had no idea what to answer. But I forced myself to smile and say, "I allowed myself a lot more time than I needed, it seems. I guess I'll just wander around town for a while. My brother always says that I get to places too early… and here's obvious proof that he's right." Not that Rabastan had ever said anything of the sort, but it sounded good.

Her warm black eyes grew large when she heard that. She was a motherly woman, but far too trusting, it seemed. "Well, you'll have to visit us for a bit, okay?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't," I protested, but what I really wanted was to sit down and speak with her and her family, and make sure they didn't get killed. But, then again, I could have been years in the past for all I knew.

Her face became stern. "You come in now, all right? Have you had breakfast? We already have, but if you want anything I will be more than happy to–"

"No, I'm fine. But I wouldn't mind talking a bit," I added, feeling strangely reckless.

Just then, her husband appeared at the back door. "Belle, are–" he broke off, staring at me.

"John, this is Rodolphus. He's taking the train, but not until five tonight." She gave him a look that said plainly that he should invite me in. I pretended not to notice.

He came out of the door, and I noticed his appearance for the first time, since I had failed to do so before. He was tall, and his dark red hair fell in front of his eyes if he leaned forward. His eyes were brown, and he looked at me appraisingly. I could tell he was the protective one, while Isabelle was more friendly and carefree.

"I told him he should come and talk with us a while. If you don't mind, of course, dear."

"Sure, he definitely should." His smile was forced as he opened the door wider. I walked past him into the little house that I had been in just minutes ago.

It looked exactly the same. There was literally no difference. I noticed the same pot that had been sitting on that thing Muggles cook on both times, and there was the same calendar on the wall and the same photo. There was even a streak on that thing Muggles keep their cold food in that had been there last time…

"Come to the family room," she offered, coming up behind me.

There was a growing feeling of unease in my stomach, but I forced my mind away from it as I followed her, and, after a perfunctory glance, noted that they were the same photos. My head turned again, and, with relief, I noticed that there was an extra photo.

"Abby's down for her nap," John said to his wife.

"Mummy!" a little boy cried and ran up to her. He tried to whisper, "Who's that?"

"He's Rodolphus," she answered softly, swiftly sitting next to him.

"That's a funny name," he commented.

I almost laughed, and couldn't help but smile at his comment. The family was so normal, so unlike my own family had been.

I heard a small cry from upstairs. Isabelle rose lightly and, excusing herself, left the room.

I began to examine the photos again. Surely they were the same ones, in the same place. But how could I know? There was one, though, that was decidedly unfamiliar.

Unable to stop myself, I walked back into the kitchen, slipping out unnoticed as John was deeply immersed in the conversation with his son. I walked swiftly to the calendar, and looked at the date. My heart seemed to stop, and I gripped the counter. It was the _same day_. I had only gone hours into the past.

Before I could contain myself, there was a knock at the door.

Isabelle came into the room. "Sorry," I lied quickly, "I'm just so used to answering the door that I came in…"

She smiled, then opened the door.

My eyes widened suddenly as I saw who it was. It was a Death Eater, who I heard was the youngest person ever to be initiated. And surely, as she stood there, she couldn't have been older than seventeen.

Her eyes were cold and held every bit of superiority I knew mine were lacking. "I'm so sorry," she apologised, her voice falsely sweet. "My brother is here. Rodolphus, I can't believe you."

She came to my side, her smiled plastered on but her eyes still full of hatred. "Can I speak to him for a minute?"

"Yes, of course."

I glanced quickly between the two of them, and noticed they looked very much alike. Isabella was shorter, and her face was friendlier. Her black eyes were warm and emotional, and her smile was real as I walked out.

"Bellatrix?" I asked. "What are you doing here?" Suddenly, the obvious reason occurred to me. "You're going to kill those Muggles, aren't you? Like I saw before I was sent back in time!"

I felt like I was going to be sick. My face paled. I knew I should want them to die, since they were Muggles and 'deserved' to, but I couldn't bring myself to want the beautiful, kind Isabelle dead, or the strong, cautious John.

She laughed, and her eyes glowed. "Of course not. _You are_."

I was so surprised I couldn't move or speak. I just stared at her.

"You mind killing the Muggles?" she asked, her voice high-pitched.

I couldn't answer, but my jaw was slack with horror. _I_ was supposed to kill Isabelle? Isabelle, who was so sweet and trusting. I couldn't do that. Never.

"No? Why not?"

I just shook my head.

"Are you attached to the Muggles?" Her eyes were harsh, and her face was suddenly set angrily.

"No," I choked out. "I can't kill them. Bellatrix–"

"Either kill them or die."

"Anything else. Please," I begged.

"I will kill one, and you will kill the other. If not, I will kill _you_, do you understand?"

I nodded. "When?"

"Now."

I stumbled after her, not thinking about how much I liked the family, or how much I wanted them to live. I forced out of my mind the horror that I had felt, or the fact that I had never killed anyone. I tried not to let Isabelle's face shine in my mind, as it kept threatening to.

Without thinking, without feeling, I stood with her as she knocked on the door. "You take the woman," she ordered quietly in my ear.

I looked at her, but her face was harsh, relentless. "As soon as she opens the door," Bellatrix added.

"No," I whispered painfully. But I swiftly pushed the feelings away as the door opened. It was the little boy.

"Mum thought it would be you, so she let me open the door," he boasted.

I wished I could laugh or be amused by his arrogance, but I couldn't feel anything. I would have asked Bellatrix if she were going to kill the boy, too, but I knew that she would. Hadn't I seen it just a little while ago? Had it only been an hour? Why did it feel like years?

"Thanks," Bellatrix said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness as her eyes grew more eager. I looked into them and knew that she actually loved to do this – that she wanted to kill this family.

We walked through the house and the boy sprinted ahead. We entered into the room, and the scene froze into my mind. John was talking to his son, their conversation already animated. Isabelle held her daughter, singing quietly.

But Bellatrix didn't waste a second as she lifted her wand and yelled the Killing Curse. I did the same, swiftly, not allowing myself to think. I just said the words, and saw the jet of light. Bellatrix shot two more curses and killed the children as well.

I heard her laugh, and I turned away from the scene. How could I keep looking? Hadn't I already seen it? I looked toward the photos, and noticed the one I hadn't seen in the future. It was the family, talking and laughing. It was another candid shot. As I looked at it, it felt as if I were being tortured, the pain was so great. But I pulled it swiftly out and dropped the frame onto the floor. Bellatrix turned around, but the photo was already in my pocket.

"I'm ready," I said, speaking for the first time in what felt like ages. I turned and walked out of the house, emotionless.

I felt so, so alone. I had just killed for the first time. It had been horrifying – by far the worst experience of my life – and I ran without thinking into the forest. I nearly fell as I tried to sit, and leaned my head against the tree, breathing harshly as I tried to battle the terror and sorrow that I felt so severely.

I heard a voice from behind me. "Is there anything you want to know?"

She sat across from me, cringing slightly. I knew that she must have orders to follow and talk to me, or else she never would've allowed herself to remain so near Muggles without going on a killing spree.

"Why?" I forced out.

"Why what?"

I wanted so much to ask why I had to be a Death Eater, but I thought the best of it and changed the question. "Why did _you_ become a Death Eater?"

She rolled her eyes, but only moments later they grew large, and she looked eager to tell the tale.

"Well, of course, at first I wanted it because pureblood supremacy was my greatest dream. After all, surely Mudbloods _deserved_ to die for being what they were. Purebloods can do whatever they wanted to Mudbloods and Muggles. Half-bloods, of course, wouldn't come until later."

I nodded. I had understood and even followed this belief for so long. Now, though…

Well, anyway, the story seemed very generic. Didn't all the Death Eaters have that experience? Had I been wrong to assume that Bellatrix was different from them all?

"And you wanted power, I assume," I prodded, urging her to continue, curious in spite of myself to learn her story.

"Yes, I did. So I requested to join. I was fifteen–"

"How old are you now?" I interrupted.

Her black eyes turned threatening, and I was unnerved in spite of myself. She looked so sinister at that moment, and I was again forced to remember her killing those Muggles… And how I wanted to never think of it again…

"I'm seventeen now," she stated, her voice still angry.

Three years younger than me. "Are you still at Hogwarts?" I asked, noticing that she waited again for any questions.

"I'm in my final year," she answered.

I tried to stop myself from asking another question, but the words seemed to slip out. "I'm sorry, but did you just leave school… I mean, you're not on h–"

"No, I just left. It's the weekend, and I'll be back by the time classes start. Anything else?" Her question was harsh, and I knew it was an order to stop talking.

"No, continue please. You were fifteen…"

She rolled her eyes but started telling her story again. "I was fifteen, and I had been obsessed with the thought of becoming a Death Eater for two years by that time. It was my dream, I guess you could say. So I went with my family to see him, and he was…" she trailed off, a glazed look in her eyes. She seemed to be in another world, and her entire expression became softer, much less harsh than before. "The Dark Lord is much more perfect than I had ever imagined. I cannot even begin to describe… There was this power to him, and he knew everything about me from the first moment I met him. My Lord told me that I would be a faithful servant, which I knew as well. Surely there could be now higher honour than serving the Dark Lord. Surely no other cause could be so just, so perfect, so right… There never was anything else for me, after that. I was initiated soon after, as the Dark Lord's youngest Death Eater."

I stared as her eyes slipped back into focus, and she waited for me to speak. But I had nothing to say. I knew then that Bellatrix was, most definitely, all that the Dark Lord could want in a follower. She was cruel, loyal and strong. But it was more than that, I knew. Most people join the Dark Lord's ranks because of power or fear. But Bellatrix had joined because of something else. She _wanted_ to, which I knew was what set her apart and made her so desirable.

She looked startled, and pulled back the sleeve of the robes she had quickly pulled on over the Muggle clothes she hated so much. I saw the Dark Mark burn, but she didn't even flinch.

"I must leave. My Lord is calling." A smile grew across her face.

She hesitated only a moment – just long enough to shout, "_MORSMORDRE!_"

She prepared to Apparate, but paused one more second as she told me calmly, "Rabastan has requested to be the one to kill you if you should choose not to become one of us."

With that, I heard a sharp crack, and I was alone, illuminated by the gentle light of the afternoon sun and the harsh green glare of the Dark Mark.


	2. A Lifetime of Servitude

Chapter 2: **A Lifetime of Servitude**

I woke up as suddenly as if someone had poured cold water on me. I was in a different place, and my hand was clutching the map.

Much like the time I had woken up in the field, I had no idea how I had gotten there. But I knew what I had to do. After my recent experience with the Dark Lord's wishes, I knew I had to gather more information. Surely I couldn't make my decision yet.

I knew so clearly that I wasn't ready to choose. I needed more time. Joining the Dark Lord didn't seem preferable to death, yet. Perhaps someday it would, but I had to find that out on my own.

Forcing my thoughts away, I focused on the map. This was the first time I had examined it closely. I noticed a small red dot, that stuck out so clearly because it was the only coloured piece. But, no, that wasn't true. I looked harder and noticed many green blotches, so dark they looked almost black, especially in the dim light – the sun was setting.

I was again placed in such a generic spot I had no idea where I could have been. As I lurched a few steps forward, I noticed the dot move as well. Was… was I the dot?

I looked for the nearest green blotch, and saw that it was very near. Barely looking where I was going, I followed the dot's path to the green mark. I arrived, but there was nothing. I sighed and sunk to the ground as I had so many times in the last few hours.

The world was getting bleaker and darker every moment. There was definitely more to it than the setting sun. Perhaps I was feeling hopeless, and… ready?

No, never! I couldn't believe that – not now, especially not now. Hadn't I truly felt remorse after killing Isabelle? I couldn't get over that feeling, and I couldn't turn away from it that quickly. Surely… surely I couldn't join with the Dark Lord after that. After all, I knew he could search my mind, and he definitely wouldn't be finding the thoughts he wanted.

It was the easy way out in a way, but so difficult in another. I barely wanted to think it, but maybe – just maybe – dying was preferable.

The sky was very dark now, but I just closed my eyes, very still.

I woke up slowly, but stood abruptly, aware that it was light out. In front of me stood a man who looked so familiar. I couldn't help but feel glad that someone was there, when before it had been so empty.

"Vaughn Rosier," he answered in response to my curious look.

I blinked. Did he really just say who he was? Evan Rosier's younger brother, of course… But he had been killed just a couple years ago.

"You can't be Vaughn," I said reasonably, shaking my head. "I mean, Vaughn _died_–"

He sighed sharply, cutting off my speech. "Don't you see? This is a _dream_." He rolled his eyes as if I should have known that, and then sat on the ground. I followed swiftly.

Now that I knew things were allowed to be illogical, I launched into speech: "Well, I heard that you were killed by the Dark Lord, and that it was because… because…" My words faltered as I thought. Slowly, I began again, "You were in the same situation I am, weren't you?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I was."

I waited for him to speak, but he didn't continue. "Please, won't you tell me?"

"There's not much to tell. I was expected to join the Death Eaters, but I didn't want to. I was given an ultimatum, but I couldn't bring myself to join, so I refused. I was killed soon thereafter, so here I am."

"Why am I here? Talking to you? Aren't you supposed to give me advice or something?"

"What do you need advice on?"

I stumbled into a question, "Why did you… choose not to? Do you ever think that it might have been better if you had just agreed?"

"If you agree without being fully certain, he'll kill you anyway. I had no way to be certain, since I never wanted that life for myself. Either way would lead to my death, so I chose the more direct route."

"So I can't just agree so that I don't get killed?" I stated flatly.

"Self-preservation seems wonderful, but sometimes there has to be another reason. In this case, there has to be loyalty. If you don't have it, there is no way you'll walk away alive."

I nodded.

"And, Rodolphus?"

"What?"

"Once he's targeted you, you can't escape."

I had known that all along, but hearing him say it was so much worse.

"Say… you could have become a Death Eater without the Dark Lord knowing you really didn't want to be there. Would you have chosen that path instead of death?"

He shrugged slightly. "Yes, I believe I would have. But I think eventually there comes a time when – if you weren't certain in the first place – you stop living. You don't die, but to an extent you do… If that makes sense."

"It does. Perfectly. Thanks." I knew his last words were true. If I didn't manage to find a reason to become a Death Eater soon, I would die.

But as I stared at the calm man sitting across from me, I couldn't help but feel that perhaps dying wasn't the worst way to go. But there were things that I didn't want to let go of yet… And, more importantly, _someone_.

That thought had come unbidden into my mind. Surely I wasn't… I didn't… _She_ wasn't important to me.

"I think I'd like to wake up now," I said politely.

"Of course," he answered.

------------------------------------------------------

I sighed and looked at the map again. I was in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. There was nothing around, just a few trees. If I could go somewhere to think, I would. But something was pulling me, forcing me to go to the next green mark.

Again, I sighed, but I decided not to fight it. After all, I needed more time. Anything that would prevent the Dark Lord for asking for my answer was perfectly fine with me.

The red dot was at the new green mark, so I looked up, wondering if anything was there. I squinted off in the distance, but could hardly see anything through the darkness. Why was I wandering around at night? Maybe waiting until morning would have been better.

But, even as I thought that, I could clearly see the outline of a small building up ahead. I ran up to it, and I wrenched open the door, for some reason feeling like it was necessary to see what was inside.

The feeling of anxiety faltered as I looked around. It was just a tiny shed. It was dusty, abandoned. Surely there was no reason to be there, after all.

But I looked more closely at it. There was a tiny patch of the floor that wasn't dusty. And it looked like it was in the shape of a hand.

Curiosity overwhelming me, I walked up to the area. My nails scraped the floor, and I could barely feel an imperfection, a small crack, in the flooring. I got the feeling there was a trap door, and tried to place my hand directly over the dust-less area.

Sure enough, as I did so, my hand seemed to sink into the floor, and I grabbed what felt like a handle. I thrust my hand back, and the door swung open swiftly.

I lit my wand silently, and leaned into the hole. I found a ladder and climbed down, embarrassed I was so frightened.

I turned around as soon as my feet touched solid ground. It was a small room, lined with bookshelves. They were old, ancient books. But when I touched one, it didn't feel real. I tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge. There must have been a charm or something on it.

I sat down at the desk in the middle of the room. There was parchment piled all over it. I began leafing through them, entirely unconcerned. But I soon stumbled upon a small, brown book. I opened it up to the first yellow page, and began reading the faded words written in elegant script.

_Today I was told that I had to become a Death Eater. It wasn't surprising – hadn't I known it for years? But there was something about the reality of it that made me turn to this little journal. I have the most certain feeling that I will have no one to tell this story to at any point in my life, and I feel that it may help to record my experience. I'm positive no one will ever read this book, because I have hidden it most securely in a shed far behind my home._

One eyebrow raised. Surely this couldn't be a journal of Vaughn Rosier? But as I began to read, I recognised his story, with a few noticeable changes.

He had told me that, if he had been able to, he would have become a Death Eater, but here he proclaimed, in bold, harsh lettering:

_I never wanted that life for myself! Never did I desire to join the Dark Lord and follow him foolishly. I know so clearly that I could never join. Just because that damned Evan did doesn't mean that I am the same way! I can most definitely be my own person, can't I?_

At first, he never mentioned why he didn't want to, but later he made his reasoning clear:

_Evan told me today why I need to join. According to him, pureblood supremacy is just that important. But it truly doesn't matter to me. I've never cared about the difference between Muggle-borns and purebloods. Why would I care? Unlike Evan, being a pureblood is not my defining characteristic. Nor is the love of murder and torture, which I know I would never be fond of. How can I actively support a cause I abhor so much? Wouldn't it be worse to pretend?_

Vaughn wasn't like me, I knew then. Only recently had I begun to think that purebloods might not be superior. His situation was beginning to seem more and more different.

I was almost finished with the slim volume, and I turned to the final page.

_Evan has disappeared for too long. I know with certainty that he will be back soon to kill me. I refuse to allow him that pleasure. So, in a moment, I will be taking my own life. I also know that he will pretend to have killed me. No one will know the truth, but I am fine with that. All that matters now is what has to be done. I feel it proper to say goodbye to someone, but of course there is no one. So I will record the words here, where they will last forever._

_Farewell,_

_Vaughn Rosier_

I blinked, surprised. He had killed himself? That was was very… strange, somehow. I guess perhaps that was because I knew that could never be my own choice. If forced, I would have someone kill me than perform the deed upon myself.

But was that really the point? There had to be something else to this story. I looked at the small book in my hands, and knew that every word was truthful. But there was something else to it.

What was it?

Maybe, just maybe, it didn't apply to me. Maybe Vaughn and I were too fundamentally different to ever have the same ending to the situation. He chose death – whatever the means – and I chose…

Well, I hadn't chosen anything yet.

I sat there, moving the book back and forth between my hands in a nervous gesture. I felt like I should leave the shed. But I couldn't bring my legs to move, because – for the first time in what felt like years – I could just sit down and think without fear of anyone finding me.

Even as my mind drifted into that bliss, I heard a noise behind me, like someone landing. I turned around quickly, grabbing my wand in the process.

My heart jumped as I saw her.

"Bellatrix, why are you here?"

"Don't you know, Rodolphus? It's almost time for your decision."

She sat down casually in a chair that either hadn't been there or I hadn't noticed. "I don't know why my Lord sent me, though. But he says it's important for me to fetch you, and of course he is always right."

"Of course he is," I murmured almost unintelligibly.

"Have you made your decision?" she asked, her eyes turning large, eager.

I stared into them, and almost felt lost. I gaped slightly, and realised just how much I wished I could be like her. _She_ was perfect, and of course the Dark Lord must have noticed and utilised that. She was everything a Death Eater should be.

I wished I could have her courage, her loyalty, her cruelty, her passion. But instead I was cowardly, unwilling, and tame.

Perhaps she was the one I should strive to be like. I picked the small brown journal up again, and flipped rapidly through the pages. He and I were different, and it wasn't right for me to compare us so unthinkingly. We were just as different as Bellatrix and I. Right?

No, not really. But perhaps I should try. I looked at her. She seemed elegant, even in the midst of a dusty cellar. She was beautiful, I noticed. Unbelievably so. And young, too, but not much younger than me. What difference was three years to a lifetime of servitude?

_A lifetime of servitude._ Just the words sounded awful. How could I desire that? Very little could be worse than serving the Dark Lord forever.

I shook the thought from my head. How disloyal. If I were going to join, no thoughts like that could never be in my mind.

The memory of being forced to kill the Muggle jumped unbidden into my thoughts. I closed my eyes, wincing, as I relived the experience. It had the same harsh edge, but I could tell that my opinion of Bellatrix was changing. Didn't I hate her just a couple days ago? And now I was wishing to be like her. Surely that wasn't normal.

In spite of myself, I watched her again, and her face was rapidly flickering from anger to pain.

For the first time in days I felt amusement. I could tell that she was trying to contain her anger, but failing miserably. I had been thinking far too long.

"I need more time," I said softly. A decision like this should develop slowly, over years of time. I was being forced to answer in only a couple days, and it felt too rushed. Far too rushed.

"More time? You've had enough time," she growled.

"Please," I begged. I couldn't answer yet.

"One day," she snapped. "But I have to stay with you until you make your decision, so hurry the bloody hell up."

I knew I should felt nervous at the ultimatum, but I could barely contain a smile as I looked at her, sitting there and not bothering to contain her anger any longer.

I wondered suddenly why Bellatrix had to stay with me. Did I need to be watched in case I showed any signs of disloyalty? Was she one who would kill me if I ran away? No, definitely not the latter, because she had told me that Rabastan was the one to murder me.

I sighed and asked her.

"You cannot be trusted to remain on your own." she answered, rolling her eyes as if the answer were obvious. "After all, you did read Rosier's journal – who knows how much that could have changed you… Plus, my Lord feels I can influence you, I believe. But of course he has not confided completely in me."

"Yes, I read the journal. Why does the Dark Lord not want me to be affected by it?" I wondered.

"Have you been?"

I stared at her, not answering. I realised so clearly that I would never, ever be able to trust her or any other Death Eater, even if I decided to join their ranks. How could I trust them when I refused to have confidence in even my own inclinations? But the Dark Lord believed that she would help to change me, and for some reason I knew that to be true.

When had I decided that I wanted to be a Death Eater? Had I even decided that?

I could barely remember a time when I was so confused. But I knew one thing for certain: Bellatrix was the answer.

She repeated her question, her eyes flashing with impatience and anger as she did so.

"It made me realise that Vaughn and I are very different. We had different values to begin with, so I feel that we will not have the same ending."

She nodded.

"Do you want to prevent me from committing suicide as well?" I asked softly.

"We would rather kill you than have you kill yourself. It was an embarrassment when Rosier took his own life only moments before we had a chance."

"How long ago was it?"

"Two years, when I first started. I was the one to kill him, you know. It was my first assignment." Her eyes glowed with anger. It was so obvious she still held a grudge against Vaughn and personally took offence to his decision.

"Why do you enjoy killing?" I asked suddenly, leaning forward eagerly to hear the answer. Surely this was one thing that I would never be able to understand.

"Torture is preferable," she began, her eyes growing large with excitement as she launched into her story. "You have this knowledge that they _deserve_ to die, and you want to make them suffer so, so much for it. Just using the Killing Curse isn't enough. Surely that isn't punishment for someone with tainted blood, or a traitor… And, as you torture, you get this energy, this indescribable but _perfect_ feeling of power. And you never want to stop. And you don't – until they die."

Why was I nodding? Why wasn't I horrified? Surely that speech should not have made the least bit of sense. If I knew anything at all I should have stood up right that moment and refused to become a Death Eater. But something was pulling me forward, as depthless, eerie, and beautiful as Bella's eyes.

Bella? Where had that name come from? I blinked to clear my thoughts, but to no avail. I couldn't help but think she was right, in her own way. I knew she believed what she said completely.

"Why don't you want to become one of my Lord's followers?" she asked softly, her voice haunting.

I stared at her for a moment, and then slowly began to answer, "I don't think I completely believe in pureblood supremacy yet."

"You don't?" she said, her voice falsely calm. Her eyes flashed with anger, and I knew she felt I had said something terrible, treasonous. "Well, I can't imagine feeling that way myself. Surely Muggles don't deserve to live. They can't even do magic."

Her voice was hypnotic. I found myself nodding, understanding. I could understand everything when she said it, because I knew she believed it so fully.

"And Mudbloods are barely higher. They can't possibly really be magical, not if their parents are Muggles. How can a person of magical race be descended from one so impure?"

Nodding. It felt like all I could do. How could I disagree with her?

I forced the question out, since it was so incredibly vital, "What makes you loyal? Your beliefs?"

"I would die for my Lord's cause, and I would do anything for him. It isn't just what I believe in. It's so much more than that. You have to find someone or something you would do anything for, and then you'll never waver."

Her words clicked in my mind. Perhaps that was it. That was the way it would be possible. Because there was one single person who I would die for, although it might not have been the likeliest person.

I stared at her glowing, passionate eyes and knew just how much I should hate her. And yet there was an undeniable attraction, and I couldn't help think it was fate.

I thought carefully about my decision as I continued my scrutiny. Maybe I still couldn't be fully trusted, but if the Dark Lord searched my mind and found I was loyal to his most faithful servant – and thus to him – he might let that be enough.

I wouldn't stray, and I knew that completely. I had no idea how I had arrived at that decision. After hours and hours of pain and contemplation, the answer had come so clearly, as if it had been there all along.


	3. Ashes to Ashes

**Author's Notes:**

_Here's the final chapter! I hope you'll leave a review!_

Chapter 3: **Ashes to Ashes**

I searched Bellatrix's dark eyes, which were quickly moving through the book that had been in my satchel. The long dark hair, the pale skin, the elegant but powerful features – I was forcibly thrown into a memory.

_The one thing that I couldn't do I was forced into. The Muggle woman was sitting in front of me, smiling up at me while her lilting voice continued its lullaby._

At the time, I hadn't thought at all. But in the nightmarish memory I couldn't help it.

_I didn't want to kill her. She was so beautiful, so good. She was the first person to bring a light into my life. She was perfect. I knew that I had some sort of affection for her, but that wasn't enough. Did I value her life above mine?_

In my memory I wanted to scream that I did, and have Bellatrix kill me with the family. But, at the same time, I knew how the memory turned out and knew what I had to do.

_I raised my wand, and the words came out broken, like I was broken. Her eyes that had been so soft and friendly before instantly became dead, and a part of me died too… a part that I could never reclaim. The good part of me was dead forever._

At some point I had slipped off the chair and was on the ground, my breathing shallow and uneven.

I looked up, and Bella's eyes were unconcerned and mocking. But as my gaze held hers, her eyes seemed to shift and become trusting and warm.

I blinked, and the illusion was gone. Her eyes were cold, hard, like ice. I wished so much for a different set of eyes, even as I knew those eyes would never see again.

And it was my fault… completely my fault.

"What's the matter with you?" Bellatrix demanded.

"I had a dream," I gasped.

"Were you asleep?" she asked, one eyebrow raising.

"Of course," I lied easily.

I couldn't force my face into its usual casual expression. I knew my eyes were wild, as if I didn't know what was happening.

I looked at her, and I realised that every time I looked at her I would see someone else, someone infinitely more treasured.

But I also knew that there was only one way to shut off those thoughts forever… only one thing left for me to do.

Even as I thought that, Bellatrix clutched at her forearm. "Damn it!" she hissed. She looked up at me, and her voice grew louder. "I must leave, but where should you go…?"

She seemed to think deeply for a moment, while I just stared, attempting to keep my expression indifferent. "Well, Evan…" She bit her lip, and then nodded.

"Okay, Rodolphus, here's what you have to do. If you don't, you'll be killed, of course," she said matter-of-factly. "Evan is an idiot, obviously, and he's pretending to be a barkeep just down the road. He's there in case I need him, but he really just wants to slaughter all the Muggles if I don't." She rolled her eyes as if Evan were playing a silly little game. "So, you have to go down there, since I doubt the Dark Lord needs him. Just tell him your name, and he'll give you a Portkey. He's absolutely ridiculous, though, so he'll probably try to tell you some stupid message. Just don't listen to him, and you'll soon be in front of the Dark Lord, okay?"

I stared at her. This was it? I had to inform them of my choice now?

"It's the only building on this road. You can't miss it," she clarified, then Apparated without saying another word.

At the same time, I fet te strangest feeling of calm come over me: I knew what my answer would be – wasn't it so obvious?

I walking out of the shed and easily found the road. I even noticed the building at the end of it, but it seemed miles ahead. My decision was made, but I was the type of person to second-guess myself.

I shook my head suddenly. No, I was not going to change my mind. I couldn't, not after that long time deciding.

The pub came sooner than I thought. I opened the door slowly, and spotted the man I knew was Evan Rosier – he looked very similar to Vaughn. I walked up to him, barely glancing at the people surrounding me. If I looked too closely at the Muggles, I might have changed my mind.

As I stood in front of Evan, I tried to remember what Bellatrix had told me to say. Ah, my name. "I'm Rodolphus Lestrange," I muttered, leaning toward him. For some reason I didn't want to speak loudly.

His face twisted into a leer. I just stared at him, unwilling to do anything Bella didn't tell me. He finally reached under the counter and pulled up a box. "Two turns should do it," he whispered.

So that was what Bellatrix called the ridiculous statement.

"Bella said this was a Portkey," I hissed back.

He laughed. "You're not as idiotic as they say, I see."

I rolled my eyes, unwilling to say anything back and form some sort of camaraderie with the Death Eater.

"Silent one, aren't you?" he asked, his head tilting and a vaguely sinister smile on his face. I knew that I should be afraid, but I felt a grin twist over my face. It felt strange, unreal. It was cynical, harsh and bitter. Perhaps there would never be another happy smile.

At that that moment of realisation I felt the Portkey pulling me away.

I had no idea where I landed, because everything was black. There was no moon or stars, or any form of light at all.

As I stood, I felt something crinkle in my pocket. Curious, I reached inside as I lit my wand. I had forgotten about the object inside; it was the photo.

I stared at it. It was the family, happy and free. Never had a photo been so beautiful, so real. A genuine smile crossed my face – I assumed was my last real smile – as I looked at it. But at the same time it sickened me to see again what I had done, and to know that in another reality, I could so easily have been in John's place. I would have gladly given up magic for her, and I knew that completely. I had barely spoken to her, but I knew her even better than I knew myself. A drop of moisture fell onto the photo, blurring John's face. Horror began to rise in my stomach as I stared at the faceless man – it could have been me. I could almost see my own face in the photo, but then it was gone.

At first I thought the drop of water was rain, but there was an unfamiliar feeling in my eyes, and I knew it was a tear. I grew embarrassed, but was almost hypnotised by the faceless man… It could have been me…

It so easily could have been me.

I felt anger at the timing of this weakness. I had to be strong for once, if only for a few minutes. I sent a jet of fire from the end of my wand, and it struck the photo. The fire burnt my hand as well, but the only pain I was feeling was from deep inside of me, where my entire being was screaming in agony. This was the one good part of my life, and it had lasted only hours. Now it was gone, and I was without even the photo as a reminder. I stared at the ashes as they fell lightly. Then the wind came softly, and took even the ashes away from me.

But then I saw a small light coming from in front of me. As if I were in a dream, I saw the one person I needed to. She was the only one who had made be certain about my decision.

"The Dark Lord is waiting for you," she said, her eyes glowing with that passionate, indescribable light again. For the second time, her eyes softened, changed, but I knew I was just seeing what I so desperately wanted to, and not what was so obviously there.

"Where?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Up ahead. Don't you see?"

I shook my head, but I didn't even try to see. I was looking only at her, attempting to memorise her features.

I needed to be sure when I faced him, and refused to think of the other woman who looked so similar, but was essentially so different.

"Come along," she sighed, and began to the lead the way.

After that, I never looked back… Not to my old life, the Muggles, the horror murder had caused me, or those moments of indecision. Nor to the other path I could so easily have chosen or the fact that I used to be so sure that I wasn't meant to be a Death Eater.

All I knew was that I had _chosen_ to be a Death Eater, and nothing anyone could do would change that.

Another part of me was certain that as long as Bellatrix was there, I could be truly loyal. Somehow, somewhere along the line – as illogical as it was – I had fallen in love with her, and I would follow her wherever she took me.

I again felt a gentle breeze blow on my face, but forced myself not to think of the ashes the wind carried.


End file.
